The musings of a kid colliding with middle age with the grace of an angry hippo, racing, on ice.

Doing it all the hard way...

Thursday, July 28, 2016

Pavement Ends Fun Begins

As expected my
Dolomite build up was especially road-centric. Although there were some gravel rides and a
good bit of mountain biking the majority of my miles were road miles.With the first rule of riding during the
first six months of 2016 being “Don’t get hurt before Italy” I was deliberately
cautious both on and off road.

Upon my return I
cleaned and reassembled my road bike and hung it in the garage.I excitedly returned to my Tallboy and gravel
bike and turned up the sound so to speak.I ripped down the Winthrop Trail on the Tallboy and attacked the dirt
sections of Wolf Creek on the B2 Bomber like I was invincible.

Hottie daring me to try and keep up

Getting off the
paved roads releases my inner child.Suddenly I’m twelve years old and I’m flying.I get a shot of adrenaline now and then when
I lose traction for a millisecond or get some unexpected air and it feels
good.

Just try and keep up.....

Letting the
Tallboy fly I was once again speechless that the bike seems to simultaneously make
the trail easier while making me a better rider.The terrain that bike can handle is
amazing.I have some pretty sweet bikes
but this one is the most impressive to me.I throw more at it than all the other bikes combined and it doesn’t even
blink.

On a post Italy
gravel ride the following day I climbed Rendezvous Pass on a whim and turned up
a road near the top that I thought might climb a hundred meters to the top of
the closest knob.After a loose and
steep start the grade lessened to single digits in steepness and the road kept
going northwest.It seemed to arch north
and run into the ridge so I kept going expecting it to double back and go to
the top of something.Then when I rounded
a corner I see the road turn west then north again intersecting the now even higher
ridge line.

The “What’s
around the next bend?” repeated a few more times which only served to heighten
my curiosity.

The road kept
going and I looked at my computer to check the time.I was climbing steadily but I didn’t know
where the road was headed. Would it end at a summit or pour down into the Cub
Creek drainage? It was close to my turn around time but I was more than two
hours out and I didn’t want to leave this road as unfinished business.I pushed harder to go faster as my eyes
darted between my ride time and looking ahead to see what the road did.

The air smelled
of pine and some merciful clouds kept the temperatures moderate.The trail was a mix of duff and gravel with a
couple of muddy crossings that necessitated use of my Cyclocross navigation
skills.

Finally about a
minute or two past my turn around time just as I was resigning myself to
leaving this an unanswered question the road just ended.No hiking trail or lookout or any significant
landmark that would justify the end of the road.It just ended. The typical burned rocks of a redneck fire
ring was the only confirmation that this was any kind of destination.

I stopped and it
was silent aside from my heavy breathing and pounding heart.I took a couple pictures, ate and drank then
pointed my machine toward home.

The descent was
fun and reminded me what a capable machine the Boone is. The Tallboy rules all
single track but the Boone can roll on the roads that make cars cry.

When Hottie and
I top off our long weekend with a road ride it seems a very distant cousin to
the fun we had off road.